Mia tried to keep her body still as Seth looked down at her, no expression on his chiseled face. She’d expected frustration or even anger, but the lack of expression was more terrifying than either.
“Let’s go,” he said softly—too softly.
She swallowed. “I’m good right now, but thanks.”
His hand wrapped entirely around her upper arm. “You’re anything but good right now. Don’t make me carry you out.” There was no doubt he could, and she knew it.
“You’re flirting with another arrest,” she said, scooting from the booth. Oh, she was ready to fight him, but she didn’t want to do it in front of a bunch of kids. So she allowed him to lead her from the restaurant and into the chilly air, biting her tongue the entire time. She could take him down with a kick to the knee, but creating a scene at this point seemed counter-productive. Yet as they escaped the warmth of the diner and faced each other on the windy sidewalk, she wrenched free. “Who called you?”
He shrugged, shoving both hands into faded jean pockets. “Does it matter?”
“Not really.” She tucked her hair behind one ear to keep it from her eyes. “Watch yourself, Volk. I’ve been deputized, and you don’t want to be charged with assaulting a police officer.”
“The laws are different here, Mia.”
“Meaning what?”
He stepped into her, bringing warmth and banishing the wind. “I make the laws.”
She shoved him hard with both hands and moved him two feet. There was no question he allowed it to happen. His chest was a solid wall of rock against her hands. She lifted her chin and studied him.
Black and fierce, his eyebrows frowned low on a face cut hard and sharp. The worn leather jacket over a white T-shirt covered broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist. Standing with legs apart in front of a gleaming Harley, he was every girl’s version of a bad boy.
Except there was nothing boyish about him.
The night was dark…the man darker.
She allowed the scene to wash over her, allowed herself to take one moment and appreciate his primal beauty. “You’re a killer.”
“Without question.”
“I read your military file.”
His expression didn’t change. “I seriously doubt that.”
Good point. Most of the file had been redacted, hadn’t it? “You’re a lost soul, Volk.”
His low chuckle lacked amusement. “Look who’s talking.”
The wind whipped into her face, making her blink several times. “Meaning what?”
A soft exhale accompanied his eyelids dropping to half-mast. Slowly, he reached out and ran one finger down her face. The pad was calloused and the touch gentle. “I have a feeling you were a lost little girl long before the problems in DC, weren’t you?”
Fire ripped through her gut, and she knocked his hand away. Rage heated the air in her lungs. “Fuck you.”
Any civility stripped from his face. Grabbing her arms, he hauled her up until they stood nose to nose. “That’s an offer I’ll accept.” Then his mouth took hers.
Heat and need spiraled down her so quickly her knees went weak. Hard and relentless, his mouth claimed. No gentleness, no persuasion, he just took. Angry and demanding, the kiss tasted of lust. Of desire.
Her mind blanked for two seconds.
Then she took him down.
Nailing him in the balls, she hooked her other leg around his knee. They crashed onto the dusty sidewalk. She landed on his hard chest, the breath whooshing from her lungs. Scrambling for the handcuffs in her back pocket, she whipped them out.
With a growl, he smacked her hand, and the cuffs spun into the road. Then he flipped her over with a sudden, brutal strength, pinning her. A heartbeat later, he captured both her wrists in one hand, extending her arms above her head.
She struggled against the cold concrete, trying to maneuver her heels under his hips to flip him.
